


What Father Didn't Tell Me

by OverMyFreckledBody



Series: JeanMarco Week 2015 [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Based off of that one episode of Angel, Dimension Travel, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Heroin, JeanMarco Week, Los Angeles, M/M, Shit, Underage Drug Use, ahahhahhhahha, eren isnt used to calling jean by jean, if you can guess the episode and who each character is ill give you a cookie, jeans a loonie from another dimension, keeps calling him armin, lots of drugs basically, marcos a fucking junkie, pisses jean off, that makes it a little ooc but, um, what can you do when you gotta run to la to get away from mean ole daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:05:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4544214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>was how different our world is.</p><p>I don't like it here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Father Didn't Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> so i really love the character jean is based off of  
> love him to death  
> he fucks up in all the ways possible but hes my son
> 
> also this is my take on tearstained for jeanmarco week

_What is this place?_

 

There were all these large, moving boxes, trudging slowly along in four lines. I had but a few measly seconds to take them in, take in the world so unfamiliar and new before I had to be back to running. I was still being followed by… whoever those two men were. ‘Dad’ couldn’t follow me. It was a sunny day after all. Shame. Didn’t want to talk much to him anyway.

 

Fuck. They were getting closer. Before they could catch up, I bolted out into the bright light, and onto the black ground those… boxes… were on. The sky here was blue, like some of the animals-demons, father would say- back on my planet, or dimension. I didn’t know, didn’t care to. Father didn’t mention much about simple things like how the sun here was yellow and harsh in a different way than the comets pouring from the red atmosphere of _my_ home. He would tell me about how to kill Eren, the vampire scorn of my birth, what he had done to my father’s original family those two hundred something years ago. He was ruthless, cruel. He killed just for the shed of blood. Just for the hell of it.

 

I had to kill him. For father. I had to end him and stop his torment.

 

I glanced over at the buffoons who were still following me as I dodged the carts, letting them swerve around me. They hadn’t stepped foot on the black ground. Was it cursed or something? Oh well. I could handle it.

 

I looked around. There had to be some way to get out of here and regroup without them tracking me. _I_ was the hunter. _I_ grew up stalking my prey. Not them. I was not the prey. I was _always_ the predator.

 

There seemed to be an even bigger box coming down towards me. It was twice the height as a normal moving box and close to three, maybe four times the length. Perfect. I could use this to my advantage.

 

Turning my gaze back to Eren’s lackeys, I smirked, counting down inside my head. Once I knew the bigger box was behind me, I jumped atop it and crouched, watching them stare at me helplessly. I’d take this for a little while and then wander on foot. There were so many things to discover.

 

As I rode the box, I took a little time to myself to look around. All of these buildings look very similar, aside from the varying sizes. Each one was a cube, some taller than others, some wider. It was very boring to look at. Next, I saw some grayish tree-like things. They seemed to control the boxes because as I was watching, absorbing the details, the color changed red and I, unprepared, slid a few inches on the smooth surface of the box when it stopped. The second time this happened, I decided to jump off, darting between the smaller boxes as I headed for quieter, emptier ground.

 

I followed the path of the black ground, now just exploring. There were no more boxes around here, so I walked openly, leisurely. The only noises seemed to come from far away boxes, or little flying things in trees along the black ground. I would have to keep an eye on those. They could be dangerous- the small, colorful creatures.

 

I paused, hearing a noise I hadn’t heard before. It sounded like conversation. I thought I was alone here. I guess not.

 

The voice sounded distressed.

 

Maybe I should check it out.

 

I leaned over the edge of the bridge. I could see two people down there. A taller male and a shorter one. However, it was easy to see that the taller of the two would easily be beaten if in a fight. The short one, shorter than me, had on a leather jacket and was standing in a somewhat hostile position.

 

I fell. Rather gracefully, like father taught me. Even a gap like that one wouldn’t do anything if I knew how to land.

 

As I watched closely, slowly sneaking my way over to them, I noticed a few things. They seemed to be making a trade, or at least, the taller one was trying to offer the shorter something. They were small, purple cases. Very thin. They were standing near a small, beat up box from before, backed up onto the slanted white ground. All of the ground here was discolored. Not red, like I was used to.

 

Short guy didn’t seem to be happy with what the tall one had to offer, but he took them anyway.

 

… And promptly threw them, each one by one, onto the white ground. I heard some crackling. They were probably broken.

 

The brunnette- the tall one, the short one was bald- made a whining noise and attempted to persuade the shorter to give him whatever he was trading for. He seemed very much in distress. I should help him.

 

I was quite close now, thankful for my silent steps when the shorter one, with a burst of speed, pinned the tall one to the box and tried to shove him in. Brunette was obviously fighting back, pushing and kicking, but it seemed the one with the leather jacket had more muscles. Good thing I stepped in.

 

Baldy noticed me and gave me a glare, still pulling at the brown hairs of the other guy, “Walk away.”

 

I didn’t.

 

“An entire suit made of skins.” He spoke when he had gotten the other shoved into his box, voice sounding like there was something in his mouth, “That’s different. What are you wearing to the oscars? Oh, just my suit made of skins.”

 

That was… stupid.

 

“What’s all this?” He asked, waving his hand towards me. I was assuming he meant my sash, seeing that he had already pointed out my clothes.

 

“Things I killed.” I looked down at it. Red strings connected all the little trophies I had collected. Father’s idea.

 

He laughed a little then whistled. I heard two sets of footsteps behind me, but kept contact with the man in front of me. “That’s scary. You know what else is scary? This.” I turned just in time to get the full whack of a long, cold stick. They felt nothing like the sticks back home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _By the time I had disposed of two of the short man’s flunkies_ , him killing a third one -who had come out sometime in the middle of the fight- by accident, I had pinned him down against the box and smacked him in the head with the same contraption he had killed one of his men with. It was similar to the way a crossbow worked, shooting an even smaller arrow when the trigger was pulled. It could fit in my hand and was silver. I tossed it aside after smashing it against his skull, not enough to kill him- yet.

 

As I moved to retreive my knife, which I had thrown at one of the attackers, I heard the upset boy from before get out of the box. He rummaged through the jacket of the man slumped against the box, pulling out a couple very small packets of something white and a handful of something else green. It was probably the stuff he was trying to trying to trade for earlier. Ignoring for him for a moment, I jerked the limp man to his feet, thrusting the knife against his neck. God, he was pathetic.

 

“Don’t!” Shouted the boy who had finished his theft. I looked up, knife inching a little from the man’s neck. “Don’t- Don’t kill him. Please don’t kill Connie… Let’s just leave.” He pulled me away from who I now knew as Connie and tugged my arm. After a brief moment of thought, I let him pull me away and grabbed my trophy sash- something Connie had apparently stolen from my short black out, caused by being hit by that stupid stick. Walking forward to the waiting boy, I grinned to myself when I realized I had forgotten something. Using my knife, I swiftly sliced off his ear- to which Connie let out a cry of pain- holding it up to offer an excuse for the extra waiting.

  
“So he won’t forget me.” I explained. He looked at me with a mix of fear, disgust, and surprise. I ignored it.

 

I then followed the other, swallowing hard as the adrenaline began to leave my body, leaving me uncomfortable in my stiff joints. I hated this point of a battle, but I had learned to deal with it.

 

I let the male, who was also taller than me and had freckles from what I could see, guide me out. He took me inside a cube place, trading the green stuff for supplies. That must have been their currency. Afterwards we arrived in a rundown area with a lot of smaller cube buildings and he showed me to the place that he seemed to be living, or “squatting” as he called it.

 

“Hey, so that was really cool today.” He spoke, eye lighting up as he looked at me. He seemed to do that a lot: look at me with brightened eyes. I didn’t know how to feel about it. “So, where’d you learn to fight all… badass like that?”

 

“In Quor-Toth.” I answered after a pause. Was it alright to tell him this?

 

He hummed, beginning to open one of the doors to a cube. “Quor-Toth. New Mexico, right?” I didn’t think so, but I didn’t say anything anyway. I didn’t know what a ‘New Mexico’ was.

 

Inside the cube was a man, some sort of handheld fire above his fist, a spoon in his mouth. He groaned, but the freckled boy only apologized and shut the door. Turning away, he glanced at me with a smile, changing the brown bag of supplies to his other arm. “There’s a lot of squatters here. Most of them are cool, but if an older man with furry slippers asks you if you want to play teddy bear in the hole, just say no thank you.” I looked around, as if I would actually see this slippers man.

 

“So, uh,” Freckles started again, leaning over the railing of the stairs we had just walked up, smile dazzling as before. “What’d you do for kicks in Quor-Toth?”

 

“Kicks?” I asked, following closely behind.

 

“Yeah! You know, for fun.” He told me, biting his lip, “Parties, movies, the mall?” The last few words held a breathless chuckle. It was a nice thing to listen to.

 

I didn’t know how to answer, so I didn’t answer at all.

 

Freckles took it in stride and continued on again, “How do you spend your time?”

 

I looked up at that, thankful that I could answer this one. “I hunt.” I told him simply. He nodded, opening a different door.

 

Inside there were no people and my guide began to light scented sticks with a handheld fire starter of his own. The sticks ranged in color and height, but were all pretty bulky.

 

“I just realized we haven’t exchanged names.” Freckles gave a little giggle as I continued to look around the falling apart room. “I’m Marco.”

 

I looked over, eyes sliding down his face, off his worn out clothes, before turning away to resume scoping out the room. Marco did seem to live up to his face.

 

“You don’t have to tell me yours.” Marco told me, pulling out the white packets from Connie’s jacket. I looked over my shoulder, fingers twitching against the wood of the dresser plopped right in the back of the room.

 

“I’m Jean.” Eren seemed to think otherwise, calling me some other name like ‘Arken’ or something. He was wrong. And evil.

 

Marco smiled again at me, but I turned to dance my fingers along dresser again. He was a happy guy, it seemed.

 

After a minute of silence, he spoke up, “This looks to be home tonight.”

 

I spun around then, “Home?”

 

“Tonight it is. You’re welcome to stay here too, if you want.” I nodded. Seemed like a plan. I didn’t have anywhere else to go either…

 

Leaning back, I watched as Marco’s eyes bounced from me to the floor, biting at his lip as they did so. He leaned down, grabbing at some cloth on the ground beside him. “That animal stuff doesn’t look too comfy.” I looked down at my coverings, frowning. It was fine. Light and easy to fight in. “I can bet this stuff will be a lot comfier to sleep in. Plus, it’s your size.” He tossed the bundles at me.

  
Deciding to go with it, I began to strip down as he turned to unload the brown bag, slowly peeling off my sewn together skins, careful not to tear any strings. It was kind of old and I would need to make a new set soon- the threads were coming loose as well. As I was figuring out how one of the cloth bundles worked, I felt a pair of eyes on me, watching me change. I didn’t mind it, but when I looked over, cautious to not let Marco know I was watching, I saw his cheeks fill with red as he continued to stare a little before turning away. Curious.

 

I finally pulled on the new coverings and set myself down on my tip toes beside the other, watching him point to the food options we had. None of them looked- or smelled- particularly appetizing, but when he ripped open a package of some dark, soft food, I was interested. Not of the food, but of the way it made him open it with such vigor. What could it be?

 

Taking a bite, Marco moaned, loudly. I was startled by the noise, thinking it was one of pain, but his eyes only rolled back in his head in a way that made him look happy. I watched him eat close to half of it before he held it out to me. “Want a piece? It’s _really_ good.”

 

Wary, I steadily moved forward and took a bite from his hold. He looked at me with surprise for a moment, but soon it faded to what I think was perhaps fondness and amusement. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

 

I guess he had seen my face and the raw emotion of joy on it as I nodded because he kept his arm outstretched long enough to let me eat the rest of it, one bite at a time. He didn’t rush me, just watched with a small grin as I took my bites. He did, however, jerk away when I reached my last bite, sliding my tongue between his thumb and forefinger to slip it out, face hastily filling with color again as he turned away. I gently plucked the fallen piece from the ground and popped it into my mouth as he opened a larger bag of something and plopped it into my lap, reminding me to sit normally, instead of on my toes.

 

I slowly began to eat my ‘chips’ as he called them, dropping one in my mouth and enjoying the crunch it would make each time I closed my jaw.

 

“You were really going to kill Connie, huh?” Marco asked, distracted by another package of a mushy, sweet thing.

 

“He was hurting you.” I told him, reaching into the bag of chips again.

 

He sighed, using one hand to cover his face, “It’s kind of good you didn’t.”

 

“Why?” I asked, confused. That man was terrible and deserved things way worse than death.

 

“Because it’s wrong.” Marco looked up at me and I dropped my hand into my lap, “Killing people is wrong.”

 

I shrugged indifferently and looked back at my chips. Sighing again, he began to open another container and handed it to me. I accepted it and examined the contents of the brown bag that hand been spilled onto the table. Oh!

 

Reaching for the silver utensil with brown welts on it, I moved to dip it into my contained food. “I know this. A tool for eating.”

 

I looked up for praise at finally knowing one of the objects, only to discover Marco’s face had paled. He gently took the tool from me and set it back on the table. “Oh… No. That one- that one’s not for eating.”

 

Weird. I slowly nodded anyway and skimmed the top of the golden colored food I was given with my tongue instead. It wasn’t bad.

 

“It’s for this.” Marco said softly, holding up one of the packets from Connie’s jacket. “It’s… It’s kind of like medicine. I get it from Connie.”

 

“Medicine?” I asked, lowering the cup from my mouth, “You’re sick?”

 

“No, no.” Marco shook his head. “It’s more for… When I’m sad.”

 

“You’re sad?” I asked. He didn’t seem sad. He smiled all the time.

 

He bit his lip and gave a smile that somehow looked more melancholy than before. “Not in the way you think.” He offered me another bite of the mushy, dark stuff.

 

* * *

 

 

 _After we had finished eating_ , Marco and I had settled to lay against the couch. I sat watching him and he leaned back against it, attempting to portray himself as relaxed, but I could tell he was shaking. The first time I had asked, he had just smiled and told me not to worry about it.

 

“It could be worse,” He reasoned, stretching, “Food, some money, a place to stay.”

 

I looked away, feeling awkward. This was the only time I had been without shelter and food of my own. Father had taught me to fend for my food and build my shacks myself, so I was always alright. Apparently, Marco, had not always been this lucky.

 

“What’s your story?” Marco asked, sitting up straighter against the couch. I peered back at him, but I didn’t say anything. “What brings you to LA?”

 

I turned to the sticks, watching the small fire dance along the white string. “To find my dad.” I shifted to look at Marco again when he gave his answer.

 

He hummed a little, staring at the sticks as well before he considered me again, “I came to get away from mine.” He sighed and I shuffled a little closer. “You know, some parents shouldn’t be able to raise kids. Drunkards, unloving, or just plain evil- they shouldn’t even be able to touch infants.”

 

“If they’re evil they should be killed.” I spouted immediately. He laughed, shaking his head.

 

“Maybe. Maybe those people can die and it not be wrong.” I nodded in agreement.

 

The air was quiet again and he ran his fingers through the carpet. “You don’t say a lot, Jean, but I like what you do.”

 

I looked at him then and after a moment he looked back at me, biting his lip again. I watched his gaze; it would flicker between my mouth and my eyes. His own eyes hooded after a second and he released his lip.

 

We were already so close, my shoulder under his where we sat, but he leaned even closer. I leaned back just a little, until the back of my head hit the arm of the couch, confused on how the close proximity was making my heart stutter. Marco persistently pushed on, his lips pressing against mine in a way that felt… nice. When I inched even further away from him, he swallowed, frowning. I disliked the feeling the expression gave me and even craved a little more of the touch we had briefly shared.

 

I hesitantly leaned back into him and he grinned again, that smile breathless and my favorite so far. He tilted his head, pressing our mouths against each other again. I slowly reached up, stroking my hand into his soft hair, shutting my eyes like he had. Fingers tucked behind his ear, I pulled him closer, he grabbing my shoulder to balance us as his lips slowly tugged one of my own into his mouth. I made a noise at the intense bolt of pleasure it shot through my stomach and pulled a little too hard, toppling backwards and bringing Marco down with me. He laughed, leaning away, his eyes sparkling with a new happiness. His shaking was worse now and I could tell he knew it too.

 

“I’ll be right back.” He told me, biting his lip again, wiping away the saliva that had tricked onto his chin. He pocketed the white packet and the utensil and headed into the room I hadn’t looked at.

 

I couldn’t help but grin, too, as I watched him leave, newfound bliss clouding my mind.

 

* * *

 

 

 _At some point I had fallen asleep waiting for Marco_ , as I was rudely awoken to an unidentifiable, but loud sound. I put away the knives I had grabbed out of their holdings on reflex and looked around, blinking away the sleep in my eyes. I drank in anything different about the room that I could and noticed something was missing. Someone.

 

Marco.

 

I called his name, looking around again. Despite knowing that he wasn’t there, I called out again.

 

I stood up, pacing around a little, trying to stop the pounding in my heart and the obscure clenching in my gut that told me something was wrong. Where would he be?

 

“Marco?” I asked again, louder this time. Maybe he was in the bathroom? That was where he went last…

 

I followed the path he took earlier, dragging my hand along the odd paint on the walls; red, but not blood. I passed an empty room, filled with nothing but thin, greyish bags.

 

There was a small click of something in the living room and I couldn’t help myself- “Marco?”

 

No reply, no more noise.

 

I skeptically trudged on down the hall. Pushing softly onto the last door available, it moved beneath my hand with a long creaking sound.

 

Inside was Marco.

 

Fuck.

 

My heart wouldn’t stop beating so hard.

 

He’s okay.

  
I had put down my knife and set myself on my knees beside the motionless body slumped over a white washing basin. Father called them bathtubs.

 

Marco… His arm was outstretched, laid out against the rim of the tub. There was a tube injected, piercing one of his freckles. His head was down against the side and his other hand, grasping the eating tool, had fallen inside.

 

I shook his shoulder, trying to say his name again, the sound only coming in tight, broken noises just like my throat seemed to be. Tight and broken, unworking.

 

Pulling back, I brushed coarsely at my eyes. I could feel tears, but there was no use for them. They helped nothing. “Marco?”

 

Shambling closer, I wrapped myself around his body- his… corpse- arms around his waist, absorbing any of the warmth he still had to offer. I buried my head in his shirt, breathing in deep, wet gasps.

 

And when Eren found me somehow- sleeping again against a cold, dead man with a tearstained shirt, I didn’t even bother to fight back when he, terrified, pulled at my sleeves, asking desperately if _“He had shot any of this crap up me”_.

 

No.

 

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU TheFullMidgetAlchemist FOR YELLING CURSES AT ME OVER SKYPE AS YOU WENT THROUGH THIS AND THREATENING TO WRITE SADS
> 
> i dedicate this to my mother, who hates this new kid in the show who has a really punchable face


End file.
